Denver Doll Meet
Lizz Cohoon
The
first I heard about it was in late January. My son is more apt
to share things with his mother than with me. I can’t explain why that
is except to say Jason never warmed up to my disciplinary approach to fathering.
It could be that he’s too much like me, and just as like magnetic poles
repel, so do we. It could also be an inherited trait, as I remember being
closer to my mother than my father. However, I don’t expect to see a
reversal on his part any time soon.
The details of a dinner conversation that occurred more than a month ago
are vague, but I believe it was Barbara who brought up the subject.
"Jason has met someone, a girl. She lives in Denver and is flying into Memphis
where Jason will pick her up," Barbara stated.
Yeah, I was surprised to hear the news. After all, Jason hasn’t shown
much interest in girls (okay, young women) over the past few years and especially
since he lost his job when Taylor Made closed.
"She’s someone he’s found on the Internet," Barbara explained.
I later quizzed Jason on the subject, and he explained he had not used an
Internet dating service, but after "chatting" online with Lizz Cohoon on
Phishhook.com, the two found they enjoyed the same types of music. Their
online conversations prompted them to begin a telephone relationship.
"Do you have any pictures of Lizz?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
"You know the pictures may be somebody else, don’t you?" I teased, having
heard of folks with low self-esteem pretending to be young and beautiful
when in fact the opposite were true.
Jason didn’t seem to mind my teasing and assured me the photos were
valid. Jason does not voluntarily share personal matters with me, so I found
out the following by asking the right questions. Lizz is from Omaha, Nebraska,
but she graduated from Colorado Christian University with a degree in Graphic
Design. She is presently a receptionist for a small architectural firm in
Denver. Her parents have a winter home in Naples, Florida where they spend
most of the winter months. Her dad owns a small factory that manufactures
trailer hitches for recreational vehicles, and because the company is now
employee owned, he’s able to be away in the winter without fear the
company will fold without him there every day.
"And when is it she’s coming to meet you?" I
asked.
"February 17," Jason replied.
As it turned out, the date of Lizz’s arrival coincided with my surgery,
and I was not able to meet her until the following day when she and Jason
visited me in the hospital. I remember asking Lizz some of the same questions
I asked of Jason, and didn’t think I was being prying or nosey, though
Sarah or Rayanne one told me the conversation sounded like a "Spanish
Inquisition."
I was able to learn more about Lizz, once I got home from the hospital. I
saw her several times, Friday afternoon, Saturday, and
Sunday.
Jason had described her as petite and 5’ 3" in height. I’d say
petite is a kinder word than tiny, but Lizz is tiny. I heard someone ask
her at the dinner table Saturday night, what size jeans she wore and was
surprised to learn they make a size 0 in women’s
apparel.
There’ve been enough horror stories of sexual predators misleading young
women and girls via the Internet to make most of us cautious about traveling
to a distant city to meet, in person, someone we’ve encountered on the
Internet. I know that to be true of the student nurse instructor I met during
my hospitalization.
"I’ll tell you one thing," she emphasized, "there’s no way I’d
let my daughter fly somewhere to meet somebody she’d found on the Internet
without me going with her."
I had the feeling my admonition about allowing grown children to make their
own choices fell on deaf ears, but I assured her that Lizz could find out
most anything she wanted to know about Jason’s family on my website.
Thus, it wasn’t as though whatever Jason may have told her could not
be validated with a few clicks of a mouse.
From my perspective, Jason and Lizz hit if off "in person" as well as online
and obviously enjoyed each other’s company. Jason plans to visit Lizz
in April, and the two plan to drive to Omaha so that Jason can meet Lizz’s
parents. Yes, it sounds serious, and I have no objections to their long-distance
relationship. After all, Lizz may be my best chance of seeing my family name
propagated by way of a Carter grandson.
Recovery
Prostate Cancer... Concluded
Barbara and Rayanne tell me I kept them in stitches with my witty comments
after being assigned a room following surgery. They attributed it to the
after effects of anesthesia or pain medication. I honestly don’t know,
but it seemed as though everything I said was funny. Somebody should have
written it all down, because I only remember one thing that produced laughter,
and it probably shouldn’t be printed here. My comment was prompted when
a nurse asked about a drainage tube on my left side. I told her I had another
one on my right side and one around back that had a lot more pressure than
the one around front. I’m not sure she understood the explanation, but
Barbara and Rayanne knew.
By the day after surgery, I had developed a more serious outlook as the reality
of my situation set in. Peeking under my bed sheet, the bandages prevented
me from assessing what sort of incision had been made and except for the
tubing of the catheter I couldn’t see much of anything except the drainage
tubes and bulbs emanating from my abdomen. The bulbs that attached to the
drains, I learned from the student nurses, were called JP’s, which is
short for the name of the manufacturer, Jackson Pratt. They were also referred
to as hand grenades, but no one explained why. My guess is they are so named
because of their oval shape and embossed exterior, plus each had a plug for
draining the contents and for deflation. After each draining, the bulb is
deflated, then plugged and functioned like a siphon to draw fluids from the
area near the incision. I heard an instructor caution a student nurse about
being sure the plug was removed at the time of deflation. I imagined there
would be considerable discomfort experienced by a patient accidentally pumped
with air, but I had no interest in testing my theory.
On Thursday, Dr. Kalish informed us he had received the pathology report
on those parts removed during surgery. The lymph nodes contained no cancer
and the cancer inside the prostate had not penetrated the prostate’s
wall. It was welcome news, and I was thankful that the cancer had been detected
early.
As part of my physical therapy, I was asked to stand up less than eight hours
after my surgery and was told to walk as much as possible each day thereafter.
Additionally, I was shown some breathing exercises and the proper method
of coughing, both of which were beneficial in keeping my muscles from succumbing
to excessive soreness. By Friday morning Dr. Kalish felt I was ready to be
dismissed from the hospital and by noon, I was on my way home, but I was
not prepared for what lay ahead.
Once home, I soon discovered my bed was more difficult to get into and out
of than the hospital bed. Our commodes at home were of standard height as
opposed to the loftier one in the hospital. This might not have been a problem
but for the fact that my trips to the toilet increased from twice a day (in
the hospital) to a dozen or more at home.
In the span of one afternoon and one night I managed to strain every muscle
in my lower back, in the process of getting up and going to the toilet, and
by Saturday morning, I was unable to get in and out of bed or on and off
the toilet without assistance. Worse, I was dependent upon others to clean
me after each trip to the toilet. For the first time in my life I longed
for a handicapped toilet, and was thankful when my granddaughter, Anna, stopped
by and offered to phone her step-mom to ask if she’d bring me a "booster
seat" from their home health care and medical supply business. Shortly after
noon, with Jason’s help, Barbara soon had the appliance installed and
ready for use.
Saturday afternoon was by far the darkest period of my recovery, as I completely
lost control of my emotions. I’ve spent the last fifty years refining
the art of maintaining a stiff upper lip regardless of whatever sorrows life
tosses my way and can’t remember the last time I actually cried.
My thoughts on men demonstrating such emotional frailty is, "it’s okay
for others to cry, but not for me."
Yet, there I sat on my "booster seat" hugging my wife and crying uncontrollably.
I hypothesized that I must have had a sex change operation, but Barbara assured
me I had not. Yet perhaps, I was merely brought face to face with my own
mortality and realized my body was not indestructible. Having no prior personal
experience with major surgery (only the repair of a broken nose and the
extraction of a kidney stone), I have nothing to draw upon for comparison
and am at a loss to explain my short-term depression. I can only report that
no further emotional breakdown has since occurred.
Three weeks have lapsed following the day of my surgery, and while I am greatly
improved and growing stronger each day, I am far from feeling like my old
self. Thank God, I’m free of the restraints of a catheter and the phlebitis
in my left leg is better. I can shower, shave, and dress myself without
assistance; independence is slowly returning.
I’m glad Barbara kept a registry, during my hospitalization, of visitors,
callers, gifts, and cards received, otherwise, I would remember only a few
of the many who expressed concern. She has even maintained the registry after
I got home. Additionally, several persons have used email to contact me.
I’ve been home for more than two weeks, as I write this article, and
with few exceptions visitors have arrived daily to wish me well, bring food,
or plants. They and those who have also phoned me are too numerous to mention
here, but their concerns and kindnesses are greatly appreciated. I may not
be closely following the Biblical command to "Lay not up treasures on earth,
but in Heaven (paraphrased)," but I have no regrets for the treasure of
friendships in this life and consider friends the greatest of my possessions.
Thank you, each and every one for your kindnesses and remembrances.
Bodock Beau
Carlin Questions
Humorist, George Carlin, is noted for his wit and probing questions. Below
are but a few examples.
1. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section
in a swimming pool?
2. OK... so if the Jacksonville Jaguars are known as the "Jags" and the Tampa
Bay Buccaneers are known as the "Bucs", what does that make the Tennessee
Titans?
3. If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea ....does that mean that one
person enjoys it?
4. If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren't people from Holland
called Holes?
5. When someone asks you, "A penny for your thoughts" and you put your two
cents worth . . . what happens to the other penny?
6. When cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?
7. Why are a wise man and a wise guy opposites?
8. Ever wonder what the speed of lightning would be if it didn't
zigzag?
9. Last night I played a blank tape at full blast. The mime next door went
nuts.
Contributed by Joshua O’Grady
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